


0218: A Spaceport Odyssey

by Cordelia_Sun



Category: Farscape
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordelia_Sun/pseuds/Cordelia_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew go in search of information about the Banik slave auctions; unfortunately, their plans get them nowhere and some tactics lead to a whole lot more trouble than they bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	0218: A Spaceport Odyssey

 

Chiana shrugged on her sweeping grey coat and strapped a pistol to her thigh as the transport pod docked in the hanger of the planet's shipping port. This commerce planet did not restrict weapons for visitors, it simply restricted life for visitors who caused trouble with them. The mag lock cycled round and clamped the pod in place, ensuring they’d have no chance to cut and run without paying the dock fees.

She watched D'Argo don his Qualta blade and his most serious expression. Tension radiated from him; his shoulders hunched, hands clenched into tight fists. She could see through the pod's view-port that Crichton and Aeryn, who came down separately in Aeryn's prowler, were already waiting for them. They were perfectly matched in their black leathers and long black coats, black pulse pistols strapped low on their thighs. They stood too close together, carefully not touching, and Chiana wondered what was going on with those two nowadays...too much tension. Either they were frelling and trying to hide it, or they weren’t and trying pretend it wasn’t an issue. She shook her head in bemusement. People made such a big deal about sex; she always thought you should just enjoy what you can when you can.

They had left Zhaan behind on Moya; still distraught from their encounter with the Plakovian's and the loss of Stark. Rygel had remained too to keep and eye on her, or so he said.

It was Rygel who intercepted the Comm signal that led them here. Local traffic, heavily encoded, indicated there might be contacts here with information on this quadrant’s slave auctions. They knew that Jothee's lot was due to go on sale in the next few solar days and figured they would have a better chance of success if they could get to him before that happened. After, he would be likely be shipped off to work in the depths of some mining colony and they would have no hope. All they needed was information—where and when—and they'd figure out the rest. But the trade in this region was all controlled by a powerful consortium; no outsiders allowed and very little public information. This wouldn't be easy.

The central dock signalled that they were free to exit and D'Argo popped the hatch and descended the steps with Chiana close behind. They joined Crichton and Aeryn in the spaceport.

“Well, this is a dump,” drawled Crichton, surveying the port with his thumbs tucked into his waistband.

“This is where Rygel said we could get information on the slave auctions,” said D'Argo, “I do not expect it to be a paradise.”

“Yeah, sure man,” John agreed and gave him hearty slap on the back, “what's the plan?”

“We split up and start asking around,” he said, “see if we can pick up a lead.”

“Cool,” he nodded, “You and Chiana go that way I guess. Aeryn, you're with me?”

Aeryn nodded and produced two small devices, each loaded with a local map, and after a short check on their planned route and rendezvous point they split up. Chiana watched Crichton and Aeryn head in the direction of some Sebacean establishments before following D'Argo.

D'Argo moved through the market area that surrounded the docks with long purposeful strides, fortunately Chiana's natural quick footed nature meant she had no trouble keeping up with him.

“So where are we going to start?” she asked, “maybe we should find a bar.”

“We are not here for a vacation Chiana.” D'Argo flashed her a warning look, “we are here for information.”

“Yeah! And you can get information in bars.” she grinned at him, “if that's not your plan, what is?”

“There is a labour exchange near to here. The port-directory says you can hire slave units for casual labour. I plan to ask there.”

“Oh, that's a good plan.” Chiana said, impressed, something simple like that would never have occurred to her, “lead on.”

D'Argo led them into the market through a bustling maze of small shop units catering to the many people who passed through the planet's economy. A cacophony of colour and scent assaulted Chiana’s senses; her mouth watered at the sight of heaps of glossy fruits and vegetables. Even the dried food, sold in huge sacks that would last cycles, looked tempting; as did the many and varied intoxicants that were sold from shuttered booths. A few stores sold luxurious items—jewellery and clothing mostly—that could scarcely be afforded by the majority of the population and certainly not by the crew of Moya. Chiana made a mental note to drop in later to see if she could liberate any interesting loose items from their commercial confinement and into her pockets.

They reached the outskirts of the warren of little shops and crossed a wide plaza littered with ragged street hawkers selling snacks, knick-knacks and, often, themselves. They bustled through the crowd, Chiana followed in D'Argo's wake as he ignored the traders trying to ply their wares; casually shoving people out of his way if they didn't move quick enough. Chiana had a good look around for interesting things, but carefully kept her hands to herself. These people, scratching out a living on the edge, had little enough that she should want to take anything from them.

They approached the labour exchange, which was a squat and grey bunker with a wide square arch that spanned the entire building and blurred the divide between inside and out. A long counter ran along the centre of the foyer. It was sporadically staffed by blank faced administrators of varying species. D’Argo scowled at them. The exchange was quiet at this time of day and their footsteps echoed too loud on the tiled floor as they walked up to the counter. D'Argo stepped in front of an administrator and leaned on the counter, arms spread. Chiana stood close to him and peered around his shoulder at the small, androgynous being who was serving at this booth.

“How may I serve?” it asked, voice light, high and artificially pleasant.

“I am looking for information.” said D'Argo.

“Certainly. I can offer details of all our services, rates and conditions,” the being responded in a practised sing-song voice. “How may I serve?”

“I'm told there is a slave auction in this system scheduled shortly, I need to know where it is,” D'Argo leaned toward the administrator, “and how to contact the sellers.”

“I can only provide details of our services, rates and conditions sir. Should you wish to hire labour at the exchange,” the administrators pleasant automaton voice never wavered, “how may I serve?”

“You can _serve_ ,” D'Argo said in a low growl, “by telling me what I need to know.”

“Do you wish to hire labour at the exchange?” asked the administrator.

“No, I do not!” D'Argo yelled and slammed his fist on the counter, Chiana gripped his arm and found that he was shaking.

“Then I'm sorry, sir,” said the administrator, its voice now flat as it dropped the false pleasantries, ”this isn't a tourist information centre. If you're not buying, I'll have to ask you to leave.”

“I _need_ that information,” D'Argo growled and Chiana sighed. For all his good qualities, D'Argo lacked the skills required to manipulate people into doing what he wanted. Rygel would have no trouble here and Crichton could probably have charmed the being into giving them information. Aeryn would have simply held a gun to its head until it begged to tell her anything she wanted to know. Chiana grinned at that thought.

If the administrator had been cuter, Chiana thought she would have would have it singing to her tune by now. Oh well, she would give it a go anyway.

“Hey there,” she purred, pushing D'Argo gently aside and lounging across the counter, “we're just looking for a little help in finding the slave auctions. Looking to buy, y'know. We thought here would be a good place to ask and maybe come back and do some business with our purchases later. You need stock, right?”

The administrator regarded Chiana with a level gaze, its flat features betraying no obvious signal of its thoughts, “this exchange trades only with a limited number of proprietors from the system consortium. We have no interest in dealing with _exotic_ transients. Now, if you are not looking to hire, I will have to ask you to leave.” It's eyes flicked up over her shoulder and Chiana felt a presence behind her. She turned and gasped as two of the labour exchange's security personnel loomed over her.

Defeated, they allowed the security guards to escort them out of the building with only minimal manhandling—in Chiana’s experience of being thrown out of places it bordered on exquisite politeness—and they deposited themselves on the low wall outside.

“It was a good plan,” said Chiana to D'Argo as he brooded beside her, “pity they're all fekkics.”

“Time is running out.” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I know. We've only tried one place; you can't give up after just one place.” she nudged his shoulder, “we should push on...try a few bars. Buy some people drinks and get them to talk.”

She took his hand and they sat in silence for a while before D’Argo took a deep breath and said, “OK then, we'll try it your way.”

“Drad!” she slapped her thighs and jumped up, “you know the bars around the labour exchange might be a good place to start, so maybe we're in the right place after all.”

D'Argo stood up and together they headed towards the knot of trading establishments that backed on to the labour exchange. An eclectic mix of workshops, traders and bars.

“We should split up,” Chiana said, “It'll be easier to get people involved if we're on our own.”

“Absolutely not!” D'Argo said.

“I’m Serious. People leave couples alone. Y’know…they don’t want to intrude.” She stood in front of him and clutched his robe; her body quivering with pent-up energy, “but people _want_ to talk to lone strangers who have currency and buy drinks.”

D'Argo’s mouth twisted as if he had bitten into something sour as he considered this. After a long pause he sighed deeply, “OK, fine. But you stay out of trouble and meet me at the rendezvous point in two arns.”

Chiana hopped and skipped with delight and gave D'Argo a huge hug, rolling her hips against him and stroking his chin tankas. She rewarded him with a salacious smile.

“See you later,” she purred as they parted, “good luck.”

D'Argo gave her a weary and worried nod as he left her at the doorway of a bar. D'Argo entered and Chiana moved on, up the street, to some of the more interesting establishments. She was confident she could get the information she needed and even more confident that the day was about to get much more interesting.

 

***

 

Crichton strode casually beside Aeryn as they cruised the streets of the port’s main trading areas. Aeryn kept a careful eye on their surroundings; scanning the alleys, shops and streets for threats; her pistol hand free to defend them. Her face was a mask of professional concentration. He knew he should keep an eye out too, but instead he watched her with covert pleasure at seeing her in her element.

“Where shall we try next,” she asked, looking around.

“We could try a bar?” he suggested, spotting a particularly promising establishment a little further ahead. They had already made enquiries in a number of places that dealt with the shipping trade; assuming that ship mechanics and parts suppliers would have contracts with the slavers, but if they knew anything they weren't sharing. They'd stopped at a couple of weapons suppliers on the dual task of picking up supplies and making enquiries, but even the exchange of a depressing amount of their limited currency for a large amount of chakan oil cartridges wasn't loosening any tongues.

Aeryn gave him a look that was deeply unimpressed, “this is not a pleasure excursion, Crichton.”

“I know, but nobodies talking to us.” he said with a theatrical wave of his arms, “and drunks, they can't stop talking. What better ideas do you have?”

“None,” said Aeryn with a sigh, “but we're not here to have fun.”

“You wanna try it some time,” said Crichton leaning in close to her ear, “you might enjoy it.”

This earned him a dangerous half-smile, “don't push your luck.”

They strolled up to the bar and Crichton held the door open with a chivalrous sweep waving Aeryn through.

They stepped inside and stood in the entrance allowing their eyes to adjust to the low light and take in their surroundings. Crichton never ceased to be amazed at the consistencies he found all over the galaxy. No matter what the planet, no matter what the species, a scummy bar was a scummy bar the universe over. At this time, in the middle of the morning, the place was dark and nearly empty. The barkeep, Sebacean looking in all aspects apart from the fact that he had four arms, fixed them with a steely glare .

“Bet he makes a mean cocktail,” Crichton mumbled to Aeryn, who rewarded him with a puzzled frown.

A few hardcore drinkers sat, squatted or hovered in the dark corners of the bar, nursing drinks of varying colours. Half a dozen heads raised at the sight of two heavily armed Sebaceans entering, but no-one but the barkeep took much notice after that.

“Hey,” the barkeep called across the room, “we don't serve Peacekeepers in here.”

“We're not peacekeepers,” Crichton drawled as he approached the bar. Aeryn fell in behind him, content to let him take the lead. Her speech and manner had Peacekeeper written all over it and it was best if she remained silent for now, “We're traders, just looking for a little downtime while we wait for our cargo.”

“Well, you look like Peacekeepers,” he said brows drawn in suspicion.

“It's the leather isn't it?” Crichton said with a wide grin, “hey, I can't help it if we share a tailor and a fabulous sense of style.”

“And the weapons?” asked the barkeep, indicating Crichton's pulse pistol strapped to his thigh.

“What, Winona here?” he waved at his favourite gun, “secondary market. Most powerful handgun in the uncharted territories. We don't care where it comes from; only that it works. Now are you gonna serve us or do you wanna check out our underwear too?”

The barkeep shrugged, an interesting effect when you have four shoulders, “we’ve had a lot of strange folk around here today. Can’t blame me for being careful.” Then he raised two of his hands as if to invite an order.

“Raslak, please.” Crichton ordered and took at seat next to Aeryn at the bar.

“We're not here to get intoxicated.” she said to him through clenched teeth.

“We gotta blend in,” he said, “we can't sit in a place like this and drink OJ.”

“OJ?” she shook her head, unwilling to engage in what she clearly thought was nonsense, and looked around, “there's no-one here. This is a waste of time.”

“Look, we'll have a couple of drinks and engage the barkeeper in conversation. Lunchtime comes, place fills up, we can try talking to some locals.”

The barkeep placed a flask of raslak and two cups on the counter. Crichton paid with the little metal tiles that was this system's currency and he left them to it. Crichton poured them each a drink and placed Aeryn's in front of her before taking a big gulp of his own.

“Oh god, that's disgusting!”

“It's cheap raslak, what do you expect?” Aeryn said.

“Something a little up the scale from moonshine made by Appalachian mountain men at least.” he took another swig and made a face.

“One day,” said Aeryn as she sipped her drink with equal distaste, “I'll figure out what the frell you're talking about.”

He grinned at her and raised his cup.

“A toast,” he said, adding, “that means you raise your cup too.” Aeryn did so and he clinked his against it, “to the eternal search for understanding in this crazy universe. Now we drink.”

They both took a drink, maintaining eye contact over the rim of the cup. They shared matching grimaces at the foul taste which finally drew a laugh from Aeryn. Crichton rubbed his thumb across his smiling lips; it was foolish, but he lived for the times he managed to crack through that serious exterior.

“What do you think,” he asked after a pause as he refilled their drinks; his cup required a much bigger top up than hers, “about this other search of ours?”

“For Jothee?” Aeryn asked and he nodded, “It means a lot to D'Argo.”

“I know, but that's not what I asked. What do you think?”

“I think we have to do our best to support him.”

“Another diplomatic non-answer.” he said and sighed, “I can't help thinking that it's futile. If we find out where the slave auctions are what will we do then? We can't buy him, we barely have enough currency for this stop off.”

“True.” agreed Aeryn.

“And we're having to choose between food and munitions.” Crichton drained his cup in two big gulps.

“Also true.”

“And because of this quest we're ditching the food and going for the weapons. Is the plan to shoot him out? That's gonna end badly. I don't know. I’m with D’Argo all the way, you know that, but it worries me. A lot.” Crichton refilled his cup, went to refill Aeryn's and found it still full. He shrugged and took another drink, “Hey, this stuff kinda grows on you.”

“I think you need to slow down.” said Aeryn, carefully taking the cup from his hand, and she called the barkeep, “excuse me?”

“What can I do for you, Not a Peacekeeper?” said the barkeep approaching with a smug smile.

“Do you serve food here. My friend here needs something to help metabolise these intoxicants.”

“Got some packets of grolak,”

“That will be fine,” said Aeryn.

The barkeep dropped a silver packet on the counter and Aeryn paid him. She opened the packet and pushed it towards Crichton.

“Eat. I won’t have you staggering along next to me all day.”

Crichton snapped a piece of the snack and popped it in his mouth, “Hey, just like a bag of chips! Beer and chips, there really is nothing new in the universe.”

 

***

 

Chiana picked up the raslak, flashed a wide smile at the very attractive male that had given it to her and took a long swig straight from the flask. She was already a lot further than D'Argo had got at the labour exchange, simply by being her usual open and enthusiastic self and she was having fun at the same time. What could be better?

The male was named Tygra and he was as tall and broad as D'Argo. He had deep orange skin covered in a fine layer of fur that graded through multiple shades of yellow, red and orange. He looked like the glorious double sunset of Nebari prime; one of the very few things that Chiana missed about her home world. He captivated Chiana. His head was hairless and a deep brow ridge circled it and curved around his lower jaw. A wide feline mouth, with its long tongue and pointed teeth, fixed her with a permanent grin. The tongue flicked out when he spoke; his language seemed to require great dexterity in that area. Tygra's size and features would intimidate many, but Chiana wasn't easily cowed and he oozed liquid charm and spoke with a thick honey voice. Chiana was enjoying herself immensely.

“So, you're looking for the slave auctions?” said Tygra.

“Yeah,” said Chiana. She passed the raslak flask to him, and began to spin their pre-prepared cover story, “my shipmates and I have a contract to obtain some labour for a Budong mine. Cheap labour. Don't really know this quadrant and people round here don't really like to share, y'know?”

“Indeed,” said the Tyrga, his pointed teeth flashing as he spoke, “they say if you get too involved in the trade, there's a strong chance you end up in one of the lots.”

“I guess.” Chiana could see why people might be reluctant to get involved.

“Some powerful people involved. It can be a bit of a closed shop,” he took a swig from the flask and passed it back to her.

“Well, we just want to take a look. See if we can find someone to do a deal, you know?”

“It may be possible,” he said, “I have some contacts who are trading in the more exotic areas of the trade.”

“Well, we're not looking for anything exotic, not for Budong mining,” said Chiana, “Baniks will do.”

“Hmm, job lots are not my area,” he said, “but I may be able to help out.”

“Drad,” Chiana drained the last of the raslak and reached up to stroke his brow ridge, “I would really appreciate that.”

“Why don't you come and meet some of my colleagues at the docks and we can discuss an arrangement.”

“Sure,” said Chiana, “I'd love to. I'll just comm my shipmates and let them know where to meet us.”

“No,” Tygra said and he stood, towering over her, “my colleagues are very private people. Just you and me.”

“Oh, okay, well sure. I can tell them after I guess,” Chiana said and stood too, “I'll just…just visit the little girls room first. Raslak goes right through me!”

Tygra nodded and Chiana headed toward the bathroom with a nervous grin over her shoulder. Once inside she secured the door and pulled out her comm.

“Hey, D'Argo,” she called.

“Chiana?” D'Argo replied.

“I think I've got a lead,” she said.

“Good, what is it?”

“This guy I met has some contacts. He's going to take me to meet them and hopefully they can give me some information.”

“Excellent Chiana, wait there and I'll come with you.”

“He said it's just me and him.” Chiana said, that bit she wasn't sure about, but she was determined to do anything she could to help D'Argo.

“Chiana, that is a very bad idea. I forbid you to go alone.”

“D'Argo, you don't get to tell me what to do. I'll be fine. I'll comm you when I'm done.” she cut him off and switched her comm to silent. It drove her crazy when he tried to order her around. Besides, the last thing she needed was him shouting at her halfway through her meeting.

She could handle this by herself.

 

***

 

“That's pretty good stuff,” Crichton said as he rummaged in the packet for the last crumbs of grolak, “Could do with a dip.”

“Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it,” said Aeryn, finishing her raslak. She'd only drunk a small cupful, but she could feel the warmth of the intoxicant flush her cheeks and it made her feel oddly self-conscious, “are we actually going to do what we came here for now?”

“Sure,” grinned Crichton, he’d drunk a lot more than she had and began to exhibit a manic and expressive enthusiasm. It was a minor improvement on black depression, which was the other direction he went in when drinking. He waved a hand at the barkeep, who was stacking crates at the end of the bar.

“Garçon!” he called cheerfully, “can we get another flask over here?”

“No more raslak!” snapped Aeryn.

“Oh, calm down woman,” Crichton drawled, “we're being good patrons!”

“Calm. Down. Woman.” said Aeryn, in a deadly dangerous tone, “who exactly do you imagine you're talking to?”

Crichton gave her a sheepish look and clapped a hand over his mouth, fixing her with a wide-eyed stare that was wildly amused.

“Sorry,” he said slightly slurring as he held out a placating hand, “sorry, didn't mean it. Just got carried away is all.”

She raised a warning brow at him; he was making fun of her. An act that would normally get him knocked on his ass, but his comic pleading and the effect of the raslak made it easier to go along with him than to get angry. She struggled to keep up her glare.

“You can punish me later, OK?” He grinned at her.

“You can count on it,” she agreed and thumped him hard in the arm. He clutched at it with an exaggerated and almost entirely fake yelp of pain.

The barkeep watched this exchange with an unimpressed and unamused expression before he served up the second flask and waited for payment.

“Perhaps you can help us with some information,” Aeryn addressed him in polite tones as she slowly and deliberately snapped the currency tiles on the counter, adding a few extra.

“It's possible,” said the barkeep as his eyes flicked between the currency and Aeryn's face.

“My shipmates and I are not familiar with this quadrant, but we have a contract to obtain labour for a Budong mine a couple of systems away.”

“Yes? What kind of labour.”

“Cheap labour. We have a leviathan transport, so we're simply procuring and delivering.” The barkeep nodded understanding and she continued, “We've heard that Banik slaves are auctioned here sometimes, but our source neglected to provide us with a location or contact.”

“That is unfortunate.” agreed the barkeep.

“So, should anyone be able to help us contact or find the slavers, we would be in a position to be very grateful.”

The barkeep looked Aeryn right in the eyes and pursed his lips before speaking.

“I don't know who you are, Not Peacekeepers, but let me give you some advice.” he said, leaning forward, “it's best not to get involved in the slaver consortium in this quadrant. They have the trade locked up all right and tight. Your client, whoever they are, will have to go through the normal channels to obtain their labour like everyone else.”

He leaned back with a sneer on his face, “If you're working for people for whom even slave rates are too high, you might want to reconsider your priorities.” he picked up the currency, leaving the extra tiles that Aeryn had left for him and walked away back to his crates.

“I like that dude. He's got principles,“ said John as he watched the man go, “Damn it, why is everything always so difficult?”

“I think you may have something to do with it.” said Aeryn dryly.

John opened his mouth to object when the comm beeped to life.

“Crichton, Aeryn.” said D'Argo.

“What's up big D?” answered Crichton.

“Chiana just called and said she's found a lead to the slave auctions.”

“That's great,” replied John, “She's done a lot better that we have.”

“You don't sound too pleased about it, D'Argo,” said Aeryn. She eyed the barkeep who had drifted back towards them and seemed to be listening in on the conversation; he backed off again as he noticed her glare.

“She has gone off with some male when I strictly forbade her not to. And she did not tell me where she was going.”

Aeryn rolled her eyes at Crichton who shrugged back. Dargo should know better than to try to forbid Chiana to do anything, but if he hadn’t figured that out by now she wasn't going to enlighten him. “Well, see if Pilot can get a fix on her comm. We'll head on up and join you.”

“I'm not sure he's gonna like what we find when we catch up with her.” said Crichton standing up and slipping the ralslak flask into his coat pocket. Aeryn, watching this, raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, we paid for it. Waste not, want not.”

“Come on, we'll go back the way we came and wait until Pilot can give us a location.”

They swept out of the bar, the barkeep watched them with a thoughtful expression as they went.

 

***

 

Chiana followed Tygra back to the docks and he led her on a winding path through the various parked up craft. There were little personal habitats, transport pods from various types of ship and an array of short-range atmosphere only shuttles. He eventually led her to a mid-range ship, a typical self-contained habitat used by small crews who live and work in space. It was black and well-kept, not especially flashy and not especially powerful, but a respectable craft none-the-less.

“Come on in,” he said, pressing a control on his hip, which opened the hatch.

Chiana climbed up inside the ship and found herself in a large, mostly empty, cargo hold. She gazed around, assessing the situation, noting the exits and possible threats. There were two doors at the other end of the hold; both sealed with heavy airlock standard doors. No sense wasting atmosphere on cargo. The only other exit was the hatch she had just come through; the one that Tygra was now casually lounging against.

“My associates will be along in a short while,” he said, his tongue flicked out as he spoke in a way that sent an involuntary and intriguing shiver through Chiana's body, “perhaps we should relax while we wait.”

Chiana smiled and rolled her body around, head tilting towards Tygra. She figured she knew what he wanted; she always knew what they wanted. If it got her what she needed to help D'Argo find his son, she was fine with that. She stepped up to him and purred in his ear.

“I'm not so good at relaxation,” she said, “but I'm an expert in releasing tension.”

“I'm counting on it,” said Tygra and he circled an arm around her waist.

Chiana swayed against his body and ran a gloved finger along the ridge that encircled his jaw. She breathed in the spicy masculine scent of him and let herself be swept along in the sensual aroma.

 

***

 

Aeryn and Crichton met up with with D'Argo at their agreed rendezvous point.

“Pilot says he has a fix on Chiana's location in the dockyard.” he said, his voice strained and his hands clenched and unclenched as he spoke.

“Is she on one of the ships?” asked Aeryn.

“Yes, he thinks so. He provided me with the location and I've checked the map. It should be easy to find.” He held out the device with the map display.

“Okay, let's go then,” said Crichton, taking the map and striding off into the yard.

“Has he been drinking?” D'Argo asked Aeryn with a tilt of the head toward Crichton.

“A little,” she fell into step with D'Argo watching Crichton swagger ahead of them with that cocky arrogance that usually drove her insane. He grinned at her over his shoulder like a boy at play and she found herself smiling back indulgently.

“He's been acting very strange lately,” said D'Argo.

“How can you tell?” replied Aeryn, but she had to agree; Crichton's behaviour was becoming more and more erratic. From his obsession with that game he'd built, to the time a few weekens ago when he disappeared on a commerce planet and they found him wandering the streets raving about Scarrans and Pilot playing something he called bongos. She had just started to worry less about holding him at arm's length and now found herself worrying about having to hold him down.

“Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on him.” She said finally.

“D'Argo...when we find Chiana,” said Aeryn after a thoughtful pause, “maybe we should hang back a little. If she has found a source of information it seems a little short-sighted to jeopardise that.”

“I do not like it,” said D'Argo, “Chiana has a knack for getting into trouble.”

“True,” agreed Aeryn, “but she can handle herself and she doesn't need controlling.”

“I'm not trying to control her, just protect her.”

“Well, either way, lets assess the situation before barging in.”

D'Argo nodded in reluctant agreement and they made the rest of the journey in companionable silence.

 

***

 

Tygra lifted Chiana up as if she was a doll and she wrapped her legs around his waist, his strong arms held her up and his tongue flicked out against her lips, tickling them in a most interesting way. Chiana allowed herself a fleeting moment to consider what D'Argo would think of this, but they'd never agreed to exclusivity and he surely wouldn't care what she did if it managed to get them the information they so desperately needed.

A noise from the other side of the cargo hold ripped her from her thoughts and she whipped her head around to see several large males in the doorway. They watched with the fixed feline leer that Tygra had treated her to all through their meeting. On him it was sexy, on these guys it was unnerving. She unhooked her legs and jumped down with a nervous smile.

“Hey,” she called out, “you must be Tygra's...er…associates, right?”

“We sure are, pretty girl. I'm Lion-O.” one of them answered and began to walk towards her. He stalked around her in a circle with a predatory gaze, “Tygra tells me you're interested in the slave auctions.”

“That's right,” she said, her body tensed and she crouched down tilting her head in a challenging stance as he moved around her. Tygra stood back with his arms folded, an expression of casual interest settled across his feline features.

 _“This guy must be the one in charge,”_ she thought _“Tygra just a henchman. A frelling delivery boy.”_

“You're Nebari, right?” he asked, “don't see many Nebari outside of Nebari territory. Interesting. Very exotic.”

Chiana fixed him with a narrow eyed stare and she began to worry. This one's skin and fur were a deeper hue than Tygra's, rich and red like Sebacean blood. Her mind flicked back to the Nebari sunset recalling its intense radiation, dangerous to non-Nebari and the reason her species had evolved their radiation reflecting grey skin. Orange and red, dangerously beautiful; she should have remembered that.

“My crew and I just want information and Tygra here…he said you could help.” she said, trying not to let her rattlers, to use one of Crichton's expressions, enter her voice. She stepped back carefully, keeping her eyes on the males who began to surround her. She slowly slipped a hand into her long coat and clicked her comm open on a one way setting.

“And what's in it for us, Nebari?” Lion-O asked, “what do you have that we want? I wonder.”

“We can pay, “ she said, knowing very well they couldn't, “once the information proves worthwhile.”

“Ah, well, we may need a little more than that. I reckon you have something we can take up front.” he said and grabbed her arm and flicked her face with his tongue.

“We're not here for that,” said another male, “Panthro only pays top price for undamaged goods. I have my doubts we would be able to take her undamaged.”

“You wouldn’t,” Chiana snapped as she struggled against Lion-O’s grip.

“Fine,” said Lion-O, pushing Chiana towards the other male, “lock her up and comm Panthro, tell him we have a Nebari to trade and we'll meet him at Lui station.”

Chiana twisted from him grip and he and Tygra both made a grab for her, they missed and she squirmed free.

“No one,” she said crouching away from them, “is trading me.”

She leapt up on one of the few stacks of cargo in the hold and attempted to vault over to the airlock door, but the feline males we're as lithe and athletic as she was and they all pounced to block her exit.

Chiana held her ground before them, crouched and ready for fight or flight, her pistol drawn, eyes flitting wildly from figure to figure.

 

***

 

Chiana's voice rang out over the comm and brought John, Aeryn and D'Argo to an abrupt halt just a few motras from their destination. They listened in horror to the slightly muffled words of the conversation that streamed from the comm.

“Trading?” mouthed Crichton to Aeryn and D'Argo, “I think we better ru-'”

“Look you fekkics!” they heard Chiana screech, “I'll kill every last one of you if you don't get the frell out of my way, so play nice and open the frelling door.”

John was the fist to react, running with great bounds towards the dock where the map said Chiana was. D'Argo and Aeryn ran after him and D'Argo's long strides quickly overtook John's. Aeryn ran up beside them, weapon drawn, as they reached the ship. D'Argo bounded up to the hatch and slammed his fist against the door.

“Chiana!” he screamed and they heard his muffled voice through the comm

“At least we know we're in the right place,” Crichton panted next to Aeryn as he drew his pulse pistol.

“See, it's gonna get ugly for you guys any microt.” Chiana's voice shrilled through the comm and she screamed her battle cry, “aye ya yaya yaaahh!”

D'Argo lost patience and stepped back. He shouldered his qualta-blade, the weapon open to reveal the powerful antique pulse rifle within, and he fired at the door one, two, three times blasting the latch away. Crichton rushed forward, pistol raised, yanked the door open and leapt inside the ship.

“Crichton!” Aeryn yelled at him, _“foolish stunt!”_ she thought and ran through after him with her own pulse pistol raised.

“Hey there...Thundercats!” Crichton called out as covered the room with his gun, “get the hell away from her!”

Chiana was in the corner of the room, surrounded by huge colourful males, and she was waving her pistol at them frantically. Crichton shouted and fired, but instead of blowing a huge hole in the side of one of the males the pulse pistol whined and dropped its pulse on the floor halfway to the target. Crichton looked at his pistol in horror as Aeryn stepped forward and began to fire. D'Argo picked up a fleeing male, swung him around and slammed him into the wall of the cargo hold.

The creatures, what ever species they were, were tough. Aeryn's shots hit them but seemed to cause little damage beyond scorching the short orange fur that covered most of their bodies. Other parts were covered in thick mat leather. Aeryn assumed it was body armour protecting the parts of them that might be vulnerable to weapons fire.

“What the frell!” Aeryn heard Crichton shout as he fired another failing pulse, “Winona, don't do his to me baby!” he pleaded.

Chiana wove her way through the swarming bodies and leapt between Aeryn and Crichton, rolling as she hit the deck.

“Crichton,” Aeryn shouted back to them as she pushed forward, “stop frelling around with that gun and take Chiana out of here! D'Argo and I will hold them off and meet you back on Moya.”

“Got it!” he yelled back and grabbed Chiana by the arm. As they ran to the exit hatch a blood-red male flung himself in front of them and pointed a massive pulse rifle at their faces. Chiana fired and missed. Crichton flailed at his lack of gun before a wild-eyed expression took over his face. He wrenched the flask of raslak out of his coat pocket and flung it right at the males head, hitting him between the eyes with a solid thunk. The male blinked and fell backward in an comical pratfall and Crichton, dragging Chiana along behind him, leapt out of the ship.

Aeryn glanced after them and retreated down the ship, towards the exit. She provided covering fire to D'Argo as he flung himself around the cargo bay. He swung his qualta-blade at the orange bodies, who leapt away with lithe cat-like leaps, movements that reminded Aeryn of Chiana at her most agitated. They were too quick and she was barely managing glancing shots with her pulse pistol. The only one that was down so far was the one Crichton had lamped with the raslak flask. Eventually she lost patience with the pistol and leaped on to the torso of the yellow and orange male in front of her and whacked him squarely between the eyes with the butt of her gun. His white eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor.

“Get them between the eyes,” she yelled to D'Argo, “it's a weak spot!”

He nodded and swung his qualta blade into the face of the male in front of him, slicing the skin which spat thick orange blood. His face crumpled under the blow.

At the sight of their two fallen comrades the other males backed off, crouching and writhing in the centre of the room, watching them with predator eyes.

“You'll pay for this Peacekeeper,” one purred at her in a soft voice.

“I'm not a Peacekeeper,” she replied and shot him between the eyes, “anyone else want to say something?” she held them with a steady glare and they stared back at her, tongues flicking out through their leering lips.

“Then we'll be on our way.” she backed out still keeping them in her sights, D'Argo at her side with his qualta-blade in rifle mode. He covered her while she exited the ship before he jumped down himself. They wove under the ship, seeking cover in case they were followed, and began to thread their way through the docking bays.

Aeryn looked up and saw Moya's transport pod lift off and shoot up into the atmosphere. She checked behind them and when she was sure they hadn't been followed she began to trace her steps back to her prowler. D'Argo followed, continuing to provide a lookout.

“I am going to kill Chiana,” he said.

“Don't be so hard on her,” she said, “she may have some useful information if what I heard on the comm was anything to go buy.”

“I doubt that. And because of her we can hardly come back down here to see if we can find any more leads.”

“There are no leads here D'Argo. No one will talk.”

D'Argo shrugged reluctant acquiescence as they rounded the dock were Aeryn's prowler was parked. He covered her as she stepped up and keyed in the access code.

“Did you pay the docking fees?” asked D'Argo, looking at the mag lock still attached to the prowler.

“No. Frell! We were going to do it on the way back. I take it you paid for the transport pod?”

He nodded, “while I was waiting for you.”

“Frell, frell, frell!” Aeryn banged her head on the side of the prowler.

“Wait here,” said D'Argo, “I'll deal with it.”

Aeryn climbed into the prowler and waited for D'Argo to return, running through her pre-flight checks. She leaned back and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and tried to ease the tension from her shoulders. The sound of someone climbing the steps up the side of the prowler caught her attention and she turned towards the sound.

“That was qui—”

A sudden pain bloomed in the side of her head as something heavy and hard stuck her face. A sick feeling overcame her and a whorl of stars clouded her blackening vision.

“D’Argo?” she croaked.

The last thing she saw before the blackness closed in was a pale grey face and two black, staring eyes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel I should apologise to Lion-O, Tygra and Panthro, because of course the Thundercats would never act in such an appalling manner. Those weren't their real names anyway, it's actually just your translator microbes malfunctioning.


End file.
